


Trophy Boy

by anomalousity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, Teacher Castiel, Teacher Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:57:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, class. Don’t forget to do your reading!”</p><p>Castiel sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning his attention to the assignments resting on his desk. He really doesn’t want to grade, but the semester is almost over and he doesn’t want to cram the week before finals.</p><p>He sighs again, resting his chin on his palm and fully prepared to begin when three sharp raps against his door draw his attention. Castiel shifts his gaze to find an almost absurdly handsome man smiling at him from the doorway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trophy Boy

“Okay, class. Don’t forget to do your reading!”

Castiel sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning his attention to the assignments resting on his desk. He really doesn’t want to grade, but the semester is almost over and he doesn’t want to cram the week before finals.

He sighs again, resting his chin on his palm and fully prepared to begin when three sharp raps against his door draw his attention. Castiel shifts his gaze to find an almost absurdly handsome man smiling at him from the doorway, a hand nervously ruffling his hair as he shifts his weight.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Novak,” he mutters, stepping into the classroom. “I’m Dean Winchester, er, the new kindergarten teacher.”

Castiel nods, waving a hand in indication that he can come in. He shuffles all of the papers into a large pile at the forefront of his desk before glancing back at Dean.

He couldn’t be much younger than Castiel; perhaps he’s twenty-three or twenty-four. Fresh out of college and straight into the frying pan. Castiel feels himself grin before he turns his attention back to his papers.

“You can just call me Castiel,” Castiel says, retrieving his briefcase from between his feet.

Dean replies, “All right, Castiel.” He hesitates a moment before continuing. “I was wondering if you, uh, had any tips for a new guy.”

He looks back up to Dean, finding him nervously fiddling with his nails as his green eyes scour Castiel’s frame. It sends an odd shiver down his spine, but he attributes it to the beginnings of winter. Just before he answers, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and ruffles his hair.

“Well, I assume you’re taking over after Ms. Milton,” he murmurs, already missing his friend. “And if any word could serve as an accurate summation of her teaching style, it’d be harsh.”

Dean nods at Castiel’s words, hazarding a step closer to his desk before finally giving up the subtlety charade and dragging a chair beside Castiel’s. He flops down in it, his legs splayed wide as he leans towards Castiel with an almost excited expression on his face.

“So I gotta be mean,” he says, lips breaking into a wide grin. “What else, Cas?”

He feels a blush shoot to his cheeks before he can force it down and turns his attention back to pushing papers into his briefcase. He gulps down a lump in his throat before speaking, wincing when he finds his voice is just a tad gruffer than he’d like.

“Um,” he starts, impressively. “Make sure to grade things right away, and be nice to your students. But not too nice or they’ll think you’re a pushover and will use that to their advantage.” His heart is hammering against his ribcage; Castiel’s surprised that Dean can’t hear it.

 _Cas_. He called him Cas.

Dean nods, rubbing a hand over his chin before grinning again. “All right, so don’t be a dick, but don’t be a glorified babysitter.” He smiles, looking awfully pleased with himself for coming to that conclusion.

“Yes,” Castiel affirms, clearing his throat. “Just be you.”

And he almost gawks when Dean’s face alights in bright pink, invisible freckles dancing into vision and Castiel can’t help but _look_. There are so many of them, constellation upon constellation, highlighting the forest green in his eyes.

Castiel should’ve been a poet.

When he realizes that he’s essentially boring holes into the man’s face, he tears his gaze away, feeling the blush on his cheeks flare. Grunting, he pulls his glasses from his nose and rubs over his eyes.

When he looks back up, he finds Dean’s eyes on his lips.

“Uh,” Castiel murmurs. “I should, um, get going. If that’s all you needed.”

Dean starts, quick flash of a light pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips before he nods in earnest. He pushes out of his chair, turning to put it back where he got it. And if Castiel checks out the rounded curve of his ass that would make models galore envious, no one needs to know.

He rips his gaze from it, however, when Dean clears his throat. Castiel peeks to his face, finding a suggestive smirk pulling at his lips before he runs his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I’ll get out of your hair then, Cas.” He reaches his arms high above his head, and Castiel doesn’t miss the flash of pale, muscled skin exposed when his shirt hitches up.

Dean nods at Castiel before making for the door, and Castiel lurches out of his chair. “Wait!”

He spins on his heel, freckled face open and curious.

“If you are free,” Castiel starts, hating the quiver in his voice. He sighs, tugging at his hair before he continues, well aware that he probably comes off as a mad man. “If you’re free, would you mind going for coffee?”

Dean tilts his head. “I thought you had grading-”

“I can do it later.” Castiel shouldn’t, but he doesn’t mind staying up into the early hours of the morning.

He waits for Dean’s decision, timidly clasping his hands behind his back and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The pause stretches on for what seems like hours; Castiel watches as Dean chews his lips thoughtfully before grinning.

“I’d love to, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song: [Trophy Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwOLCuOvnJA)


End file.
